House of Gold
by PastryFudger
Summary: Genevieve Spicer makes different choices, and becomes more involved in her son's life than she had ever intended. Being a good parent doesn't mean being a good influence. ON HIATUS TILL I REMEMBER THE STORY ; ;
1. Chapter 1

Genevieve Spicer had once been known as a black widow. She would lure men in with her looks and money and tear them into nothing at her feet before moving on to new prey. Everyone had heard the rumors, that men in her clutches never walked out, but they still flocked to her from all over the world.

Then she met a particular Frederick Sinclair, a blond man, incredibly pale, German and powerful with a pair of bright blue eyes that were definitely not as innocent as they seemed.

She fell in love.

She kept him around. There was... something special about him. He didn't bore her within a year, he never ceased to worship her every aspect, he was the perfect husband in ever way. They kept her maiden name, as there was far more prestige to it, but when they had child, gave the boy the name of Sinclair.

Jackson Sinclair Spicer. The baby was loud, smelly, and difficult to work with. He had albinism, which required special medical treatment at times, and he had a frail body.

His parents were the perfect couple, but not perfect parents. Every attempt to take care of this child resulted in their ire and Jackson's loud crying as a nanny rushed over to coo over the baby.

The birth of the boy caused a rift in what Genevieve had thought would be her last marriage, and she decided she was done with family, with love. Frederick had left on a 'business trip' that she knew would probably result in a couple of bastards. Jackson was far more comfortable in the nannies hands than in hers.

She considered leaving to Canada, staying with some girlfriends, expanding her makeup line. Maybe she would ask her mother to come take care of Jackson in her stead. She had her bags packs, her plane ticket bought, everything was set up for the move.

Then she made the mistake of checking in on the boy.

He wasn't asleep, oh no, he was awake, standing up in his crib (at such an early age, too) and his strange red eyes stared at her, innocent and confused.

He... he didn't recognize her.

He didn't recognize his own mother.

A sudden feeling of guilt washed up over Genevieve. God, what would her own mother say about this? The woman had raised three children alone after the husband had faked his death and ran off with all their money. What kind of person was Genevieve to leave her son alone like this?

'But you've never been a good person, Evie,' her sister would say. 'Murdering your husbands. Killing to get your money. You're more likely to smother him in the crib than be a mother to him.'

No. No, she may not be a good person, but she wouldn't kill her own child. Others, perhaps, but this one was hers.

This just wasn't the time.

She would come back later, when the time was right, and she gave Jackson a small kiss on his forehead, and left the room as quietly as possible.

* * *

Four months and seventeen days to relax, and then it would be Jackson's first birthday, and she would return just in time for the party. Unfortunately, Genevieve's mother wouldn't be able to make the occasion, but promised to be there for the next one.

Then she ran into a small snag.

She found discrepancies in her bank account. Someone was spending a bit too much money out in California, and she only knew one person who would go there.

Vacation cut short, Genevieve confronted Frederick, her husband, with a strange ache in her chest as she eyed his hands resting on two lovely ladies hips.

He paled at first, taunted her and tried to egg her on, to make a spectacle of herself, but she left, a fire burning in her belly that she hadn't felt in a long while, but knew very well.

Bloodlust.

The woman watched and waited, putting in use skills she hadn't used in almost two years. It was pitifully easy to murder the girls he had been with and put the blame with him. When the news spread worldwide of the man's infidelity and murder, she filed a divorce, and went back to China early.

There were bigger fish to fry, after all. Frederick could deal with his own shitfest.

* * *

Jack wasn't just standing by the time she came home - he was _walking_. He was too short to walk up the stairs and normally climbed them, but it was impressive nonetheless.

"You're just a natural little Einstein, aren't you darling?"

"Your lad's a helluva lot smarter than Einstein, Evie."

She looked up in surprise at her mother.

"I thought you wouldn't be here."

"Well, my plans had involved killing your husband, but you took care of that mess nicely, so I won't have to."

The woman narrowed her brow. "You knew?"

"Evie, this was _your_ mess. Can you honestly say you would be mad that I cleaned up after you failed to notice it?" The old woman shifted her stance, gripping her cane in a much more menacing way.

There was a small silence, only interrupted when Jackson tugged at his grandmother's skirts, begging to be picked up.

"You're right. Now move it, I want to take a shower and forget about men."

"And your son?"

"He's the only man for me."

* * *

Finally, November 30th arrived. Jackson's first birthday.

Genevieve could say, without a doubt, that she was very proud of her son. He was beginning to understand that things and people had names, though a bit early as he had began calling his mother 'Evie' and his grandmother 'Mother' and was adamant that he was right.

At least there was much less confusion.

The nannies were still glad to help with the harder parts of child rearing, feeding him and clothing him and cleaning him, but Genevieve was not so heartless to not see that they had grown attached to her boy, and allowed the woman to stick around and care for him as often as they wanted to, until the boy was four years old.

Then, Genevieve needed to make sure that she could take care of the child on her own.

No, not the child. Jackson. Her son, who was sitting in her lap, giggling as he looked with glee at the single lit candle and the nannies singing well wishes to him.

"Happy birthday, Jackson," she whispered in his ear, and he shook his head as her breath tickled against the back of his neck. She smiled, knowing she had made the right choice.

* * *

 **AN: hey there, pastry here. sorry this isnt an update to RiSW, though one is in the works and should be uploaded soon. i just wanted to make a xiaolin showdown fic because i truly love all the show's characters and concepts. however, i wanted to write a more competent jack (who doesn't, really) but wanted to make it from an easier source then 'suddenly he matures' or something like that (thought i definitely love those stories).**

 **i doubt i will write any actual ships into this? maybe hints at something, but nothing concrete. i know many fics of the 'competent villain jack' type are chack but i feel like with how i have this fic planned out, it might not go that way. we'll just have to play it by ear, eh?**

 **if i had to fit things into canon, genevieve left with no intentions of returning (or at least, not often). grandma spicer showed up to frederick and he promised not to skim money and cheat on his wife if she kept quiet. she went with it bc she felt like genevieve should take care of her own problems and since she abandoned her son, didn't deserve any help from granny spicer.**

 **hope you enjoyed, and feel free to leave a review if you'd like!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: hey its pastry! sorry this chapter is so short, couldn't cram much more into it. hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"Mrs Sinclair-"

"It's Ms. Spicer now," Evie said, dressed in funeral black at an important interview. Frederick's body had been found floating in a river and she had been called up to talk about her husband's death."

"Very well, Ms. Spicer. How do you feel about this... development."

"Grief, Mr. LaFitte," she said, with a dramatic sniffle. "To find out my husband is not only dead but to have been cheating on me, not even a year after I bore him a son? This is just so..." She fell into a well faked crying fit, and was excused from the rest of the interview, and herded to her limousine.

The second she got in, she chuckled and popped open a champagne bottle.

"Back to my home," she ordered the stoic driver. Back to her son, she told herself happily, as she took a sip straight from the bottle.

* * *

Before Jackson's fourth birthday, he had been nothing but a little devil to the nannies, to his mother, to his grandmother, to his four previous pets. At least he finally called his mother 'mama' and his grandmother 'nana'.

Then, of course, his grandmother had to gift him a helipack.

Now, he was an absolute menace - from the ceiling.

"Jackson!" Evie called, from the staircase.

"Master Jack, please get down from there,"the nannies begged, worry all over their poor faces.

The boy was perched on a large glass chandelier, a small laser pistol of his making in hand, and he was making messes left and right, destroying various vases and paintings that Evie hardly cared for.

She just didn't want him to get hurt.

"Jackson, if you get down from there, I'll let you build a super laser," she said sweetly.

Astounded, Jack stopped his small rampage. "R-really?"

She smiled. "Would I lie?"

Jack gave her a look, and she had to admit she had lied a few times to get him into bed. The boy just couldn't sit still! She still had to arrange a doctor to come up to the mansion. She wondered if it was ADD or something, but was no professional.

"Well, I'm not lying this time. We'll even set up the basement to be your little evil lair. How does that sound?"

The boy gave her the most adorable look, and Evie felt her heart melt at the stars in his eyes.

* * *

Jack's evil lair was made to be bombproof, fireproof, waterproof, many other proofs, and (of course) evil looking! The lighting was good, but it would be intimidating to find something like this in such a 'lovely' household.

Evie had set up a whole bunch of scrap metal and extra robotics pieces, a large computer with four screens, and several tools and workbenches for Jackson to work at.

He looked at her like it was Christmas morning. If only he knew what she had planned for _then_.

Then she placed the basic schematic for a laser on the table.

"Jackson," she said, giving him a smile, "I want you to improve on this design in the _very best_ way you can. Got it?"

He took a look at it, and gave her an impish smile.

"Sure thing, mama."

* * *

Through simple cameras placed throughout the lair, Evie watched her little boy make his first robot. The design was childish, but it was effective, and it helped make the giant laser, doing all the heavy lifting a four-year-old couldn't do.

It took a month for the laser's core to be done, but by then Evie could see incredible improvements to the activation time, aim, and design. It was made of lighter metals, making it a little more portable than your average giant laser, but it was still an effective weapon. What a genius her boy was turning out to be! The genes were hers, of course. Frederick was an idiot.

She handed Jack the 'test coordinates' and an old enemy was blown up. The woman had owed her forty thousand pesos and never paid up.

Ahhhh, that hit the spot.

* * *

The next project Evie gave her son was to improve on his robots. He had insisted they were at their best, but she told him she knew he could do better.

And do better he did. The robots got deadlier and more humanoid with each prototype, finally ending up with ten human looking robots, each with individual personalities, who replaced the remaining servants in the household. It did no good to have servants in an evil household after all, wouldn't want to spill any secrets.

Then Jack made more variations off of what he saw on TV - ninjas, snipers, various villains, all in the service of her dear little boy.

It was perfect, and she couldn't help the evil smirk on her face. Oh, how it was to be young. She truly missed it.

* * *

Halfway across the world and several miles underground, a young man knelt before a throne in a dimly lit room.

"The Vixen is back in business," he reported. "She has eliminated the Grey Goose."

In the low light, only a pair of shapely legs and red eyes could be seen upon the throne.

"Then we shall respond."

* * *

 **AN: points if you can figure out my GI Joe PSA reference.**


End file.
